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to my house, about ten blocks. I was still trying to get used to suburbia, all those houses so similar and still. Except for the occasional kids playing in the street—and there weren’t many because it was dinner-time—the neighborhood was silent. You could never walk a noiseless block in Manhattan.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â We didn’t speak, and yet we were communicating. Getting to know each other, without words. When you think about it, words don’t count for much anyway. It’s the intentions behind them that count. And this was like we were skipping past the words, like we didn’t need them.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œThis is it,” I told him when we got to my house, a Spanish-style villa, gated and set back from the road and the other houses.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He stared at the gate’s crisscrossed wrought iron strips. “You live here?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œYeah, why?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œNothing … it’s just … this is like, the nicest house around here. Hell, it’s a friggin’ mansion.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I looked at the sidewalk, didn’t say anything.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œHey, I didn’t mean … it’s just …. Oh, Doll.” He sighed, let my hand slip from his. “We’re so different.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œThat’s only a problem if you make it one,” I said, looking back up at him.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œYeah, you say that now ….”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I took his hand back in mine. “See you in school tomorrow?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œUh, no … I go to Boces. That’s for technical training.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI know what it is. Okay, then come over after school.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œCome here, inside?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I nodded. “Come over tomorrow, and you can tell me anything you want. Okay?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œBut, your parents ….”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œMy parents will like you because I like you. Don’t worry.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â His eyes looked panicked. He sucked in a burst of air, let it out slowly like he’d done earlier. The stress faded from his face.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He smiled his little side smile. “Okay.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â We let go of our hands together this time, stood there for a moment, silently saying goodbye. Then he turned, ambled down the street.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â He stopped at the corner street sign and gave a wave.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I waved back and unlatched the gate.
    Joey
    Â Â Â Â Â Â All the way home it was a battle.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â There was this new part of me
    still back at the water
    still holding Doll’s hand.
    Breathing
    breathing
    breathing in that air.
    Feeling like one of them ducks all neat all in order all
    right.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Yeah
    all right.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â I’d actually felt all right there.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â But then there was my
    other part.
    The part I’m used to. The part that don’t let me have nothing ‘cept drinks and some bud. The part that don’t let me rest for a goddamn minute.
    The part always
    poking
    poking
    poking at my back
    reminding me what a
    loser
    I am.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â That part it don’t wanna let me breathe for nothing.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â That part that
    part that
    part keeps me frozen on the scrawny-ass ledge from the second I wake up.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â That part was saying,
    She lives in a palace she’s got
    gates and stone pillars she’s got ivy growing up those pillars she’s got all these pine trees in her yard it’s like a forest in there
    through
    them
    gates.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â That
    part
    said, There ain’t no place for someone like you behind